Shattered
by Lisande
Summary: WARNING: spoilers for OotP! - These are the thoughts of a surveyer, who tries to cope with the murder JKR committed in OotP. Will he find the strength to continue, or will he give in to the grief and stop caring? Read and find out, this is sad!


Disclaimer: I am not J. K. Rowling for if I were, this fic wouldn't have been necessary.  
  
These are the thoughts of the last one of the marauders, one day after the fateful battle in the ministry of magic. It's my first attempt to write an English fic, so please excuse all the mistakes I am sure I have made in spelling and grammar, I didn't know it better.  
  
Shattered  
  
Nearly fifteen years ago, my world shattered. Three years ago I knew that there was still a task for me, a sense why I had refused to give in to the thought of dying, which would have been so easy in so many occasions. Two years ago, some of the wounds mended in a way I never thought possible. One year ago, I finally was reunited with one of the old pack.  
  
Yesterday, my world shattered.  
  
*  
  
When Voldemort was defeated on Halloween 1981, it was a cause for celebration for the wizarding world. For me, it was the day my life as I used to know it vanished in a green flash. James and Lily dead, Peter dead (as I thought) and the last of us a traitor, brought to Azkaban for a life sentence. And me, left behind. That was the point where I lost my hopes, although the rest of the world seemed to think that everything was alright now, that life could start again as it used to be. For me, there was nothing left. It took some weeks until I noticed that I had forgotten one of the pack members - the one that was supposed to be protected by the rest of us, the youngest, the cub. Harry.  
  
I had refused to touch a newspaper since I had heard the bad news, and I never, not even in my wildest dreams, had had the hope that he could have survived the attack. I even can't remember who broke the news to me. Whoever it was, I'm sure that he mentioned Harry, but I wasn't able to understand it at that time. The only thing I understood was that, for the first time in ten years, I was without a single friend.  
  
When I found out, I tried to find him, asking everyone I knew, but nobody seemed to have a clue where he had been brought to. Even Hagrid didn't tell me anything - Hagrid, who, of all people, had never been able to keep a secret. When I asked Dumbledore, he simply told me that the boy was save and that it would be better for him not to be in contact with the wizarding world until he was older. He didn't want him to grow up as a sensation - the boy who lived. And deep inside my heart I knew that I was not able to bring him up myself, although for some days that was the only thought that kept me from insanity.  
  
The following twelve years passed in a monotony of getting up in the morning, going to work, being sacked because of my monthly "illnesses" and, not to forget, changing into a monster once a month.  
  
Then, three years ago in July, I received a letter from the one person who never doubted me, who gave me chance after chance, and here was just another one. The envelope, addressed in green ink, contained two sheets of parchment. The first one was a cutting from the Daily Prophet, the second the letter from Dumbledore. It's message was as simple as it was clearly an order that could not be refused by a former member of the order of the phoenix:  
  
'As I am sure that you still refuse to read the newspaper, I send you the included cutting. I am sure that you understand it's meaning. You surly know that Harry is attending Hogwarts now and I fear that Sirius Black will be after him. I need someone in my staff who knows him and his way of thinking. The position for Defence against the dark arts is open and I am sure that you're fully qualified to fill this post. I would like you to take the Hogwarts Express from Kings Cross together with the students to have an eye on Harry during the ride. Your ticket will be send to you a week before September, 1st.'  
  
As I said, there was no way to refuse this request.  
  
I never thought that teaching could change my life so completely. During the last years I somehow had learned to live with the thought that one of the pack, of the marauders, had been a traitor. The night of Harry's last exam showed me the truth. When I saw Peter's name on the map I knew that something had gone terribly wrong, thirteen years ago. When Sirius told me that they had changed the secret keeper in the very last moment, I suddenly saw some hope. One of the pack had betrayed the rest, but it had not been Sirius. And now there was the chance to clear his name, to have a part of the old pack back.  
  
I know that I am the one who is to blame for Wormtail's escape. Had I not forgotten to take my wolfsbane potion exactly that evening, I surly would have changed, but I would have been able to keep my mind. There wouldn't have been the necessity for Sirius to leave the children to save them from me, when he had to look after Wormtail. There wouldn't have been the chance for Wormtail to escape, and there wouldn't have been the necessity for Sirius to flee from the ministry. Had I not been that stupid and forgetful, perhaps everything would have turned very different.  
  
Sirius never blamed me for that, I know he really didn't, but it is enough for me that I do all the blaming. When Sirius arrived at my rundown house one year ago, I still had hope that we would be able to proof the truth the ministry didn't want to hear. I kept that hope all year, although the odds seemed to be against us.  
  
And yesterday, fate turned finally foul. I cannot see a simple reason why it had to be him. And I know that I am to blame again for not persuading him to stay in the Headquaters. The moment I saw that curse hitting him I knew that all was in vane. All my hopes, all my struggles to survive proofed to be wasted time, wasted energy. The only thing I could still do was to prevent Harry from following him through the veil, which would have been a sure way to kill himself.  
  
The rest of yesterday is blurred. I can't remember leaving the ministry, I can't remember returning to the Headquaters. The only thing I know is that there is nothing left to live for. I do not have the strength to go through this again. "I do not care anymore."  
  
"Yes, you do."  
  
I hadn't realised that I had uttered the last words aloud, but someone heard them. Someone who has succeeded in sneaking on me. But it is not possible. It can't be her. Tonks has never been able to sneak on someone.  
  
But there she is, her hair short and very blonde this time, her head tilted to one side as if she was listening to something. I realise that I haven't answered yet.  
  
"No, I don't. You can't understand that, Tonks. I've got no energy left for going through this again. Life's not fair, I have finally understood that." Tonks sighs and sits down besides me. "Life's not fair and has never been, but that's no reason to give up. There's so much left to live for, to care for, Remus. You are needed, don't you see that? Your friends need you."  
  
I'm letting out a harsh laugh. What does this child know about friendship? "I have no friends, Tonks. The last one of them died yesterday. I'm left without anyone, for the second time in my life." Tonks shakes her head, smiling sadly. "You are not alone, Remus. All the members of the order are there..."  
  
Now it is my turn to shake my head. "Tonks, don't be silly. I know that they accept me, but none of them - including you, don't shake your head - is a real friend to me. Colleagues, yes. But not friends. And stop telling me fairy tales about being needed - nobody needs me. You'd be better off without someone like me."  
  
Tonks eyes me wearily. I can tell that she doesn't like sitting here with someone who is obviously not willing to go on. Then, somehow, a sly smile sneaks onto her face.  
  
"You're doing it again, Remus. The same mistake you made fifteen years ago. I heard you tell it - him."  
  
I'm raising an eyebrow. "I don't know what you are talking about." Tonks' smile grows mischievous. "You don't know? Well, let me think. Who could it be I'm talking about? Who could it be you forgot when you lost your friends for the first time? Who could it be who is left without a family, without any connection to his family, without the man he considered as something between a father and a brother?"  
  
She stops for a moment, gazing at my face. Then, in a low, gentle voice: "Who is it, Remus, who could need you more than anyone else now, for you are the only connection he has left to his parents? Don't forget him again, he's not earned that."  
  
She gets up and leaves the kitchen, leaving me behind, staring into the fire. She is right - of course she is. There is someone left who is worth living for, going on for. I feel my shoulders straighten, my mind slowly clears enough to see the simple truth:  
  
My world may be shattered, but even more is his.  
  
There is the last member of the pack, the one who is supposed to be protected by the rest of us, the youngest, not really a cub anymore. There still is Harry.  
  
Requiem in pacem, Sirius Black, Padfoot, I have to go on for the boy who lives.  
  
~ The end ~  
  
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Any reviews? I know this is sad, but that's exactly how I am feeling in the moment. 


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